


Of Poachers and Pirates

by Britpacker



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-25
Updated: 2012-01-25
Packaged: 2018-08-15 17:05:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8064847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Britpacker/pseuds/Britpacker
Summary: Malcolm’s having trouble with his conscience.  He just hopes he’s not the only one.  Post ep 3.19 “Damage”.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** A departure from the norm for me - a gen fic! It's been hovering in the back of my mind for a while, although Season 3 is my least favourite (not enough T/R interaction for my taste).  
>  As ever, unbeta'd, so the inevitable errors are the only things I own.

A dozen generations of Reeds must be turning in their watery graves. Piracy. We've fought it since the days of Blackbeard himself, when Midshipman Patrick Reed won his spurs (and a shed-load of prize money) in the West Indies aboard His Britannic Majesty's frigate _Indefatigable_. What would he think if he knew his great-great-great-however-many-times grandson had committed an act of naked brigandage against a helpless crew?

The lunar colony I destroyed at the touch of a button? I'm not even going to go there. Looking myself in the eye while shaving next time I get chance is going to be hard enough without that.

Oh, I was _only obeying orders_. Doing what a Reed male is drilled from infancy to do. It's not my place to question Captain Archer's decisions. In fact I seem to remember expressing my opinions on his democratic style quite forcibly, at a time I didn't expect to live long enough for embarrassment to set in.

Well Malcolm my lad, you've got what you wanted. An autocratic C.O. And now you're left hunched over a table in a gloomy observation lounge (can't waste power on superfluous lighting) shredding your sin-spotted conscience for doing precisely what Dad and Jonathan Archer combined would expect.

Might is right. Ends justifying means. I never did care for those self-aggrandising maxims, and if I hear either of them again in the next week I refuse to be held responsible for my actions. I'm sorry, but when humanity betrays the very things that make it human... we've had it as a species, Xindi or no Xindi.

We murdered a group of innocent strangers today. People unconnected with us or our enemies. Wrong place, wrong time. Bad luck, chaps. Unpleasant things happen in war. Collateral damage, they used to call it.

Perhaps Archer can tell himself they might find a way out. We didn't blast them to the Shades, or whatever the Illyrians call Eternity. All we did was take what we needed and run.

People of whom we know nothing. Lost travellers who looked to us for mutual help. In my book, that makes us worse than the Nausicaans. It puts us on a par, morally at least, with the very race we're trying to stop.

It wasn't the kindest analogy to use when Trip tried to jolly me into bosom-buddy Johnny's way of seeing things. And yes, I feel a right bastard for bringing up the pointless murder of his perfectly innocent sister and all the other equally blameless six million, nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety nine human beings he's determined to avenge. In all fairness if the weapon had struck the British Isles, taking my Madeleine instead of his Elizabeth, maybe I'd find the sacrifice of a few dozen nameless aliens worth making too.

God, I hope not!

"They murdered _millions_ , Lieutenant." The use of rank from Commander _Jus'-Call-Me-Trip_ hurt all right: just not as badly as the stabbing of guilt through my guts. "Maybe the Illyrian crew won't make it outta the Expanse. That's too bad. We got six billion of our own to think about, and that's what the Cap'n was doing, okay?"

"And maybe Degra thought seven million humans was a price worthy paying for however-many-billion Xindi he believed we threatened?" My voice sounded scratchy; I was horribly afraid I might burst into tears. "Trip, those people have brothers too. You know how they're going to feel about the species that murdered their siblings."

"It hadta be done, Malcolm." The angry colour drained out of his face and I knew I'd got through at least some of the hard, angry shell he's built up since Lizzie's death was confirmed. The real, compassionate Trip Tucker I know is still buried under all the rubble of grief and rage.

I'm just not sure about the Jonathan Archer I cursed and admired in equal measure.


End file.
